To Find Her Place

by Susan Anne Mason

  His collar suddenly seemed too tight. “I’ll call your mother’s house on Sunday and let you know when to expect us.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “And congratulations again. I know you’ll make a great interim director.”

  With a final trembling smile, she walked out of his office.

  Garrett’s chest deflated with a long release of air. If only he could be as magnanimous toward Jane and her future endeavors. Maybe with enough time, prayer, and distance, he could master that particular skill.

  31

  On Sunday morning, after returning from church with Mama, Jane busied herself preparing a light lunch while attempting to ignore the nerves twisting her belly into knots. Today would prove to be momentous in more ways than one.

  Today, Mama would see Donald again for the first time in years as well as meet his infant son. Jane held no illusions that it would be a happy reunion, since Mama had made her disapproval of Donald apparent every chance she got. Jane only hoped little Patrick would soften her heart enough to forgive Donald.

  But it was Martin’s arrival that was uppermost on Jane’s mind. It was imperative that the boy make a good impression on Donald. Yet knowing the way Martin operated, he’d probably be reeling from the news that he was being placed with yet another foster family and would most likely act out. But Jane was running out of time. Once he went to the Blackwoods, she would have no way for Donald to meet him.

  After she carried her mother’s lunch into the living room and set it in front of her, Jane peered out the window to the quiet street beyond. At least the weather was cooperating with her idea for this afternoon. Wanting to do something active to keep Martin busy, she’d planned an outing to the harbor, where they could watch the boats come in. And afterward, perhaps Donald and Martin could bond by flying a kite in the nearby park.

  So much was riding on this meeting today. It just had to go well. It was the only way her future made sense. The only way to justify walking away from her career.

  Her fingers tightened on the window ledge as her thoughts drifted back to those last heart-wrenching moments in the Children’s Aid office. On Friday afternoon, Jane had endured the heartfelt good-byes and good wishes of her co-workers, then waited until everyone had left for the weekend. In the hushed silence that remained, she took her final tour of the building that had meant so much to her, where she’d spent so much time over the last decade. The stenographers’ pool where she’d first started as a clerk, the crowded rooms upstairs where she’d worked as a caseworker, the tiny staff room where she’d made numerous cups of cocoa and dried countless children’s tears.

  At Melanie’s desk, Jane had let her fingers linger on the cool metal keys of the Underwood typewriter as she inhaled the familiar scent of paper, ink, and stale coffee—smells she would forever associate with the career she loved. After a final look around, she’d headed to the last room on her list. The most difficult room of all.

  It was impossible to steel herself from the emotions swirling through her as she opened the door to Garrett’s office and snapped on the light with a quiet click. Standing there, she absorbed the pure essence of him that permeated the room. The tidy desk, the lingering smell of his aftershave, the spare jacket that hung on the coatrack. All memories of the man who had come to mean so much to her. Reminders of the life she could have had if only the circumstances had been different.

  Lord, have I done the right thing? I thought my place was here, helping children find a home. Yet my heart yearns so deeply for a child of my own. If marrying Donald and being a mother to his son is truly your will for me, help me to be brave and step boldly into my future with no regrets.

  Jane had walked to the coatrack in the corner and removed the starched white handkerchief from the breast pocket of the jacket Garrett had left there. She held it to her nose, inhaling the memory of the man who invoked such strong feelings in her. Then, unable to relinquish this last reminder of him, she tucked the handkerchief into her skirt pocket. After a final lingering glance around, she’d turned off the light and closed the door firmly behind her, bringing an end to that chapter of her life in preparation to start another.

  Jane pushed away those painful memories and let the parlor curtain fall back into place. Dwelling on the past wouldn’t change anything. She needed to leave her memories firmly where they belonged and focus on the future.

  “Jane, honey, there’s someone here.”

  Mama’s voice broke Jane from her dismal thoughts. Surprised she hadn’t heard the bell, Jane whirled around and rushed to answer the door.

  “Good afternoon, Donald.” Her forced cheeriness sounded almost as false as her smile felt. Then her gaze fell to the baby and her insides melted. “Please come in.”

  She took Patrick from Donald’s arms so he could remove his hat and overcoat. Under a knitted blue bonnet, little Patrick gazed up at her with unblinking eyes. Her throat cinched on a rush of emotion. This little one needed a mother. He needed her. This was the very reason she’d given up everything else. Surely it would be worth it in the end.

  “I haven’t been in here for years,” Donald said, scanning the entryway. “The place hasn’t changed at all.”

  “Come into the parlor and see Mama.”

  Donald walked in and hesitated in front of Mama’s chair as though unsure how to greet her. “Hello, Hildie. It’s good to see you.”

  Mama’s cool stare held him in place. “Hello, Donald,” she said. “I must say I’m surprised to see you again.”

  Donald nodded. “I know. I never expected to end up back here. A widower with a baby to raise.”

  “And Jane certainly never expected her husband would walk out on her.” Her mother lifted her chin, totally unrepentant for her confrontational attitude.

  “You have every right to be angry,” Donald said with amazing candor. “I’ve apologized to Jane and told her how much I regret my actions. I promise to do my best to make it up to both of you.”

  Jane moved in to alleviate the awkwardness. “Mama, this is Donald’s son, Patrick.” She set the baby on her mother’s lap. The little boy looked at her mother with a toothless grin, save for two tiny bottom teeth.

  Mama’s features softened like ice cream sitting on the counter too long. “Aren’t you a precious thing?” she crooned as she jiggled the boy on her lap.

  Jane turned to Donald. “Have a seat. I’ll put on the kettle for tea.”

  She had just headed toward the kitchen when the doorbell rang again. Her feet froze, her heart beating a frantic rhythm that matched the nervous flutter in her belly.

  Garrett was early. She hadn’t expected him for another hour or so and had hoped to have time to speak with Donald about Martin and what to expect from the boy.

  She took in a calming breath, smoothed her skirt, and opened the door. Nothing could have prepared her for the way her whole being jolted at the sight of Garrett standing there, so solemn and strong, his hand on Martin’s shoulder.

  “Hello, Jane.” His voice sounded different, strangled somehow. He wore a simple blue shirt that made his eyes appear brighter than Mama’s forget-me-nots in the spring.

  “Hi.” She couldn’t seem to make her tongue formulate any other words, so she simply stared, memorizing every detail of his face. The finely shaped brows, the dark lashes, the cleft in his noble chin.

  Garrett set a small suitcase on the floor. “Here are some of Martin’s things. I’ll keep the rest in the car until tomorrow.”

  “Thank you. Come on in, Martin.”

  The boy scowled, not seeming the least bit happy to see her.

  Her stomach sank. If only she could reassure him that this stay was temporary, that she would be his mother one day soon. But it was too early for such promises.

  “Well, who is this? You must be Martin.” Donald came into the hallway, a wide smile on his face.

  Jane cringed inside. This was not how she’d wanted to make the introduction. And certainly not in front of Garrett.

>   “Martin, this is my . . . friend, Donald.”

  “Hello, young man. Jane has told me all about you. We’re going to take you out for a fun afternoon.”

  Martin stared up at Donald, a slight sneer curling his lip.

  “Remember your manners, Martin,” she warned.

  “Hello, sir,” he muttered. “I’m going to say hi to Mrs. Mitchell.”

  “We’ll be right in.” Jane attempted a light tone, but if her stomach twisted any tighter, she just might pass out.

  “You’re the guy from Jane’s office, right?” Donald stepped forward and offered his hand.

  “That’s right.” Garrett hesitated for a split second before he shook it. “Garrett Wilder.”

  Donald released Garrett’s hand and draped an arm across Jane’s shoulders. “Thanks for bringing the boy. I know it means a lot to Jane.”

  Garrett’s steady gaze moved to her. “That’s the only reason I’m here.”

  Her lungs seized, trapping the air inside as surely as the weight of Donald’s arm trapped her in place. She wanted to shrug it off, to tell Donald this was all a horrible mistake, but then the baby let out a loud squawk from the parlor, and all her motivation for doing this came rushing to the forefront.

  “That’s my son.” Donald laughed. “I’d better make sure he’s all right. Nice meeting you, Garrett.” Donald squeezed Jane’s shoulder before he walked away.

  She wrapped her arms around her middle, struggling for something to say, wanting Garrett to stay but needing him to go.

  He studied her with an inscrutable regard. “I hope you understand why I didn’t stay to say good-bye on Friday. I thought it would be better for the both of us if I wasn’t there.”

  She nodded. “I needed to be alone, to leave in my own way.” Her cheeks heated at the thought of his handkerchief tucked away in her drawer.

  He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I wish you nothing but happiness, Jane. I hope you find the family and the love you deserve.” Though his words were even, a quiet despair filled his gaze. “I want you to know I’ll do my best to carry on your hard work at the agency until the new director is named.”

  Unwanted tears burned her eyes. “I know you will.” She swallowed. “And if you ever need advice, I’m available . . . for a small fee.” She laughed a bit too loud.

  When he joined her, the tension released inside her like air leaking from a balloon.

  “I should go,” he said. “I’ll pick Martin up tomorrow morning around nine o’clock.”

  “Thanks again.”

  “You’re welcome.” He gave her a ghost of his regular smile, then headed toward his car without ever looking back.

  32

  Here comes a good gust now!” Jane shielded her eyes, tilting her head to watch the shaky progress of Martin’s kite as it weaved and bobbed across the sky.

  The sun had already begun its slow descent. They’d spent a couple of hours walking by the water, enjoying the unseasonably mild November day, and watching all the different boats that moved in and out of the harbor, including the island ferry. When Jane had suggested the kite idea, Martin had shown the first real spark of interest.

  “That’s it. Let out some more line,” Donald called, running alongside him. His always-immaculate hair blew across his forehead, his tie fluttering out behind him like his own kite tail.

  Martin squinted upward as he jogged, holding his arms up as high as he could. When the wind suddenly dropped, the kite plummeted downward, just as Martin’s foot hit a tree root. He sprawled to the ground, dragging the kite with him.

  Donald skidded to a halt. His face grew taut, and his mouth compressed into a thin line.

  Jane pushed the baby carriage over the grass to reach Martin. “You were doing great,” she said. “Want to try again?”

  Martin jumped to his feet and went to examine the kite. The wooden spine had cracked, poking a gaping hole through the fabric. The boy picked it up, his face contorting with a mixture of disappointment and rage. “Stupid kite.”

  “That’s too bad.” Donald rolled down his sleeves. “I guess that’s the end for today.”

  “Flying kites is for babies anyway.” Martin scowled and threw the kite on the ground.

  But Jane could tell by the way his chin crumpled that he was about to cry, and she knew he wouldn’t want anyone to see.

  Sure enough, the boy darted across the lawn toward the street, his jacket flapping open as he ran.

  “Take the carriage,” she said to Donald. “I’m going after him.”

  Without waiting for a reply, she dashed across the uneven ground, scattering dead leaves as she ran. “Martin. Wait.”

  She had no real expectation he would obey, but to her surprise and relief, he came to a halt at the edge of the grass and sank down, bringing his chin to his knees.

  If she hadn’t been wearing a dress, Jane would have sat beside him. Instead, she leaned over her knees, trying to catch her breath.

  “I’m sorry your kite broke,” she said when she could talk again. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  The boy dragged a hand across his face. “He thinks it is.”

  “No, he doesn’t. He saw you trip. It was an accident.” She pulled her cardigan tighter to combat the wind. “Come on. Let’s go back to the house and have dinner.”

  Martin peered at her from under his unruly bangs. “Is he going to be there?”

  “Well, yes. Donald’s our guest tonight.”

  “Why?”

  She hesitated for a moment, then decided to risk soiling her dress and sat on the ground beside him. As much as she wanted to give the boy some hope, some inkling of what might happen in the near future, she couldn’t risk it all falling apart. But she could tell him a little about her circumstances.

  “Donald used to be my husband before he went away to war. Now he’s back, and he wants to be my husband again.” Her stomach pinched at those words, but she ignored it and continued. “So, we’re spending time together to see if that’s what we both want.”

  Martin plucked a blade of grass. “Whose baby is that?”

  Oh, she should have been prepared for that question. “It’s Donald’s. He had another wife for a while,” she said. “But she died a few months ago.”

  Martin stared at her unhappily. “You’re going to be the baby’s mother?”

  Jane nodded. “If we decide to get remarried, then yes, I’ll be Patrick’s mother.” Emotion tightened her chest simply saying the words out loud. “Now, come on. Donald’s waiting for us.”

  “I don’t think he likes me.”

  She paused, not wanting to discount his feelings. “He just needs to get to know you better. We’ll work on that at dinner. I’m making your favorite.”

  “Spaghetti and meatballs?”

  “That’s right.” It was worth using some of her meat rations to make Martin’s favorite dish. She rose and held out her hand to help him stand.

  “Mrs. Linder? Why do I have to go to another home tomorrow? I know I shouldn’t have fought with Kevin and Dale, but if I try harder, could I stay on the farm?” The sadness in his voice tore at Jane’s heartstrings.

  “Oh, honey, I’m sorry but no. It was too much for the Wilders with all the kids and the farm to run.” She put a hand on his shoulder as they walked back to Donald and the baby. “But you had a good time there for a while, right?”

  “Yeah. It was fun with all the animals. I’ll miss Blackie a lot.”

  She wanted to promise him the moon and the stars, but she’d already said too much. “You keep saying your prayers every night, honey. I know God will find you the right home yet.”

  Jane only prayed it would be with her.

  Dinner was a rather strained affair with Martin trying so hard to be good that he basically said nothing at all. Mama wasn’t herself either. Donald did most of the talking, recounting his adventures in England and a little of his experiences in the war. He seemed to hold back, as though sensing his talk of war might upse
t Mama, and of course, Martin didn’t need to be exposed to such horrors. Little Patrick provided relief from the tension, playing with a wooden spoon and making funny noises, while watching every move Martin made, clearly fascinated with the older boy.

  Before long, however, the baby grew tired, rubbing his chubby fists into his eyes and beginning to whine.

  “I’d better get this young man home to bed.” Donald rose, taking Patrick in his arms. “Thank you all for a lovely meal and visit.”

  Martin jumped up from his chair. “I’ll help clear the table, Mrs. Linder.”

  “Thank you. That would be nice,” Jane said. “You can stack the dishes on the kitchen counter.”

  She walked Donald to the front door and helped him put on Patrick’s jacket.

  “Thank you for trying so hard today, Donald. I think overall it went pretty well.” She did her best to ignore her misgivings over the awkward dinner. After all, she never expected their first meeting to go perfectly.

  He buttoned his overcoat. “I’m sure it will just take time for us to get used to each other. Will we see you tomorrow?”

  Monday would be the first day Jane wouldn’t be going to the office, and she would need a distraction to keep from mourning the loss of her career. “Yes, I plan to spend some time with Mrs. Hedley and become familiar with the baby’s routine. How does nine o’clock sound?”

  “Perfect. I have a job interview in the afternoon, so that will give us some time together. Perhaps we could even go somewhere for lunch?”

  “An interview! How wonderful.” She ignored the implied date-like invitation, not certain if she was ready for that. “What type of job is it?”

  “A sales position.” He shifted the baby to the crook of one arm, giving her a quiet smile that told her he was aware of her avoidance tactic. “Until tomorrow then, Jane.”

  He bent toward her, his lips claiming hers in a light kiss. She forced herself to relax as old memories fought to surface. Like the first time he’d kissed her on the front porch, how nervous she’d been that she didn’t know what to do, and how sweet he’d been, never pressuring her for more.